Excusing himself from the almost forced introduction by Tyva Dal to her father, Cpt Dal, and Cpt. Keacen, Traven headed toward the front desk. His steps precise, posture perfectly upright despite the casual setting, he thought he’d have started to relax a little by now, maybe it was been taken by surprise by the young Andorian, he wondered.

He stood in his uniform like a man still tethered to the deckplates of the USS San Clemente, he’d only recently arrived on board and his new crew hadn’t even completed their shake down cruise before ordered on vacation. Though, after everything he knew they needed it.

As he approached the desk he noticed a few staff busying themselves and looked for someone free. A young Deltan clerk offered a welcoming smile, he returned it as she clicked a few buttons on the panel in front of her. “Welcome to the Resort, Lieutenant Commander…… You’re with Starfleet?” looking him up and down.

Traven gave a polite nod. “Jorik Traven, USS San Clemente, I’m here for the Shore Leave rotation, I should have a room booked?”

She tapped a few more times on the pane and expression brightened. “Yes, we have you, one of our nicest rooms with a mountain view, upgraded suite. would you like me to arrange for your luggage to be take up to your room?”

He dropped his travel bag onto the counter with a bump. “this is everything, much appreciated.” he replied.

“Would you like an escort to your room, or….”

Traven interrupted, “I’ll find it later, the Bar?”

She grinned and pointed. “Left of the atrium, just past the cascading wall fountain.”

He nodded again and made his way across the lobby, his bag being collected quickly behind him in the hands of an efficient luggage handler. He caught sight of Tyva Dal waving to someone in the distance and felt a strange flicker of amusement. She was a bright one and with that confidence she will go far.

Traven walked into the bar, it was everything a resort bar should be, light wood tones, open walls showing a panoramic view of the Casperian valley, and in the corner a spring-fed waterfall embedded into the stone wall. It reminded him of home. Over the many conversations around the room he could hear music playing. something akin to Vulcan harp meets Earth jazz, probably not something he’d have chosen but it wasn’t terrible.

He paused a moment to take in the atmosphere, he’d been hoping for a few quiet drinks but instead, he spotted them across the bar.

About half a dozen of his officers from the Mente were already clustered around a table. They were already changed out of their uniforms and all were dressed in resort attire, there was even a couple of floral shirts amongst them. Even Lt Cdr Paldor, the Mente’s reserved Chief Medical Officer, had let down her rigid ponytail and was sipping something from a tall glass with a tiny umbrella. Ensign Zoral laughed, really laughed, it was great to see the young Bolian enjoying himself.

They looked… normal, Relaxed.

He hesitated for a moment, torn between duty and detachment. These were his crew. Should he be over there with them? Showing support, making conversation? But he couldn’t bring himself to head over, not just yet. Not after everything.

Instead he headed to the far end of the bar, and choose a bar stool with its back to them. The bartender, a tall Bajoran headed toward him.

“What can I get you, Commander?”

“Altair Water, room temperature.”

He poured the drink and placed it before him.

He lifted the glass and caught the reflection of in the mirror behind the bar. He could see the crew carrying on their fun. Lt. Brunak was demonstrating some kind of Tellarite hand game and someone had started clapping along. They needed this, he thought to himself.

The past few months had pushed them to their limits, the endless Vaadwaur border skirmishes, not to mention that it had only been a year since the incident that changed many of the crews so completely.  They hadn’t had time to process these events properly, there had always been more work to do.

He should feel pride in the fact the crew hadn’t let any one down, no matter what they went through they all had an immense sense of duty.

The truth was that command hadn’t come easily to him. With what happened during his first mission in command he doubted himself. Discipline, Structure, he understood these things. But having a connection to those under his command? Leadership with warmth? That had always been his old Captain’s gift.

He sipped the water, it was refreshing but lacked the kick of a good mead, he was going to call the bartender back over but then heard.

“Hey, Traven!” someone called from the table, he didn’t catch who.

“Come on over!” another voice echoed, grumpier, probably Brunak.

Traven raised his glass slightly to acknowledge their calls but didn’t get up.

They were enjoying their night and didn’t need him there reminding them of the chain of command or the burden of leadership. Not tonight.

the bartender noticing the interaction smiled, “Not much into socialising?” he asked.

Traven smiled toward him, “Let them have their night, they’ve more that earned it.” he replied with a nod toward the group.

He stayed for a while but didn’t want to overstay, especially when the crew were the other end of the room. He got up and headed toward his room. As he walked down the corridors the lights dimmed gently to simulate the evening

It didn’t take him long to locate his room, entering, he noticed the porter had already delivered his bag. He took in the silence and let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding.

Maybe tomorrow, he’d sit with them. Maybe he’d even join in the merriment and laugh, but not tonight. Tonight he’s going to spend the night in reflection.